


The West Marches: Tales of Honnleath

by sinistralScribe



Series: The West Marches: Tales of Honnleath [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2020-10-04 01:40:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20462927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinistralScribe/pseuds/sinistralScribe





	1. Telvin's New Friend

A blond man, world-weary but still young in years, was resting in a small clearing surrounded by pine trees. He wore a suit of sturdy plate mail that had been artfully inlaid with gold and blue accents. His enchanted, blackened pike and his trusty lightning javelin were within arm’s reach. He was a cleric of Umberlee, and her holy symbol of sea-splitting lightning hung about his neck.

Telvin sat upon a stone he’d shaped to fit himself, breathing evenly, eyes closed. Sometimes, after a particularly traumatic adventure, he would come to the stone for peace and quiet. He wasn’t too far from town or the temple. If anything decided to attempt an attack, he could return quickly. Besides, the small glade where the stone made its home was worth the short walk.  
  
No one bothered him here, though he was sure Finbar knew of the place. Perhaps his dwarven confidant was part of the reason he was left in peace. He appreciated it, if so. The branches of the trees swayed in the wind, softly rustling their needles. The scurrying of the smaller creatures of the forest complimented the subtle song of the trees. Telvin relaxed a bit more into the stone.  
  
The autumn’s cool breeze was refreshing. His armor had been too hot for his liking during the warmer seasons. The price of protecting one’s hide was unfortunately a sum paid in layers. Chafing simply wouldn’t do, and the only way to avoid it was padding between armor and skin. Or, he supposed he could have been a wizard, but the thought sputtered out swiftly. He’d always been destined to be a cleric.  
  
Just as he began to drift into a pleasant nap, the sound of something sprinting through the underbrush caught Telvin’s attention. It was close and heading his way. He rose, lance at the ready, to face the intruder. It was just as well, he thought. Napping in plate armor wasn’t the best idea. Though he was still annoyed at the disturbance.  
  
Whatever was approaching didn’t sound too large. He heard a whimper and was surprised to see a small dog dash into the clearing, pursued by a handful of wicked-looking twig creatures. The pup deftly sprinted up the nearest low-branched pine. It shook with fear and crouched on a limb against the far side of the tree trunk. The blights had noticed Telvin and paused, but it was too late.  
  
The cleric’s eyes narrowed at the little monsters, and he stepped forward to face them. Before they could think enough to flee, a wave of thunder rolled outward from the man, scattering now-lifeless pieces of the blights in all directions. Once he was sure that had taken care of them, Telvin gave a satisfied nod and turned his attention to the terrified dog.  
  
It was definitely a puppy, with its too-big ears and paws and its lanky features; it was perhaps six months old at most. The poor thing was still shaking as it peered around the tree trunk from its perch. Seeing Telvin looking at it, the young dog whimpered and thumped its slender, pointed tail hopefully against the bark of the branch. It looked down at the ground, which was a good six feet below, and let out another little whine and shuffled a bit on the limb.

  
“You stuck buddy?” Telvin asked in that friendly voice most people have when speaking to a cute animal.  
  
Another whimper.  
  
“It’s okay, I’ll get you down.”  
  
Another hopeful tail wag.  
  
Telvin leaned his pike against the far side of the tree, then carefully extracted the pup from its branches. He chuckled as he received many grateful licks that tickled him through his scruffy beard.  
  
“How did you manage to climb that high, little guy?” Telvin mused as he gently placed the pup back on solid ground.  
  
In answer, the dog shook his gray and black-speckled fur and gave a small “woof”. He rolled about in the leaves, then sniffed and plucked a stick from the ground and began chewing on it.  
  
“That’s right,” Telvin encouraged in a low, babying voice. “You show that mean stick monster.” He patted the puppy’s head and earned a bout of happy tail wags.  
  
On the way back to the temple, Telvin and the pup passed by Finbar’s keep. The dwarf rose an eyebrow but made no comment at the sudden presence of a dog at Telvin’s side.  
  
“This is my new dog,” Telvin announced proudly. “I saved him from a flock of vicious tree creatures.” He added a bit of a flourish to really convey the threat the tiny blights had posed.  
  
Finbar nodded in understanding, smiling behind his beard. He watched the pair as they headed for the temple. He could hear Telvin talking about how he was going to make a special food and water bowl just for the puppy.  
  
“It’s the little things,” the dwarf muttered to himself, amused.


	2. Lyari's Hot Cocoa

The clear, sunny day had given way to twilight, and a steady snowfall had begun. It was the norm for this time of year in Honnleath. The temperature had been brisk, even with the warmth of the sun, and the nightfall and snow had driven most inside to the comfort of their hearth. As the temperature fell and the stars shone through the few gaps in the clouds, cocoa was being heated in a small cottage on the southern side of town.

The owner of the cottage, Lyari, was a fierce-looking elf monk with dark tattoed skin, complimented by a number of piercings. Her mane of curly brown hair was bound atop her head. The monk looked out over the peaceful town through one of the windows in her small house. She was quite happy with her cottage’s perch, which boasted a beatiful view of the snow as it fell near the lights of the growing village.

She wasn’t used to snow, and while the phenomenon fascinated her, she was far less enamored of the drop in temperature it required. She resented bundling in cold weather clothes. She needed freedom to move when she was fighting, and numerous layers were not helpful in that repsect. Also, she rather enjoyed wearing less clothing. She liked her muscles and tattoos, thank you very much. And how many more times would she have to break up the ice on the pond for her fish? Gods, she did not like winter.

One thing she certainly did not hate about the cold season, however, was how she could spend time with her partners. The chill in the air was an excellent excuse to cuddle indoors and drink hot cocoa. She lightly tapped the kettle warming over the hearthfire. Not quite hot enough yet. She had been researching the details of running her winery, and thankfully hot cocoa was much simpler and faster. She, Daudge, and Gale had taken to drinking it when they were relaxing together. She had become quite skilled at heating it just right.

Daudge was telling Gale about Ford Mustang, his beautiful black horse, and the new blanket he had bought the stallion to keep him warm in the stable. “O’ course, taking him out on an adventure’s another story,” Daudge admitted. “But I guess that’s no problem with Shadowmare and Nightmare now.”

“The gods do not seem to like us taking horses on adventures,” Gale agreed. “I suppose taking _their_ horses is different.”

There was a special sort of amusement Lyari found in the pair of them sitting across the small table from one another. Daudge was a broad shouldered, gray-skinned half orc whose bulk and height made the table seem too small, whereas Gale’s short frame left her feet nearly dangling from where she sat on the chair. Lyari smiled at the contrast between her partners as they discussed the unfortunate deaths of many a horse taken on an adventure in the West Marches.

Lyari tapped the kettle once more. Perfect. She poured the drink into a trio of sturdy mugs and brought them over to the table. Of all the contrasts between them, Gale and Daudge did share a habit of making these wonderful satisfied little _'hm’_s after the first sip of her cocoa, and it melted her heart. She only wished the damned snow would melt too.

Before Lyari realized how much she had been shivering, Daudge had placed a blanket around her shoulders, and Gale had started adding marshmallows to the cocoa. In a matter of seconds, Lyari had been made into a blanket burrito and was holding a nice hot mug of sugary brown goodness in her hands. Her fingers had been so cold, she now realized.

“We need to have Oz make you a wearable blanket,” Gale said. “A big fuzzy one with your name on it.” The aasimar’s silver eyes glinted mischievously.

“Oh, and I bet we could get a couple o’ them meteor rocks to keep you warm too,” Daudge suggested. “Tuck ‘em under the foot o’ the bed, under something non-flammable, o’ course.”

“I think,” Lyari said sternly, trying to hide a smile, “That snuggling is the best way to keep me warm.” She couldn’t help but laugh from inside her blanket burrito.

Gale and Daudge obliged, settling in next to her, and she felt warm and peaceful. She made a mental note to recall this feeling whenever she was out in the cold, then went back to enjoying the company of her partners. It felt like so long since they had all three felt at peace. She had only half finished her cocoa when she drifted off to sleep. Daudge gently tucked Lyari into bed while Gale made sure the fire would last until morning. The three slept soundly through the quiet snowy night.


	3. Carol the Belles

Calli had always been a material girl, and that made sense. I mean, the world _was_ material, after all. Might as well enjoy it while you were here.

The pink-skinned, purple-haired elf sat in her solar, preparing for the evening. As the blood red polish dried on her toes, she applied a fresh coat to her manicured nails, which had been deftly sharpened to claw-like points. Both her hands and feet would be covered, of course, but it never hurt to be prepared. Thinking of preparations, she tucked the wedding scrapbooks safely into their hiding place with her dry hand. Couldn’t have those wandering off while she was out on the town. Worries of weddings and demon lords could stand to wait.

Tonight, she and her angels needed to be laser-focused on performance. She’d have to take care not to rip the ends of her gloves with her nails, but she was more than dexterous enough for that not to be a worry. Unless of course, someone upset her. She hummed to herself as she applied the final coat of crimson, taking a moment to admire her handiwork.

Elle was already dressed in her bright red gogo stiletto boots, sleek red skirt, and fur-lined red halter top. Her fuzzy-tipped hat was pinned expertly askew, and her scarlet lipstick was perfectly applied. She fanned Calli’s toes to help speed up the drying process.

“The candy canes are ready, my lady,” Elle informed Calli.

“Very good,” Calli said briskly. “Make sure the others are ready to leave in fifteen minutes.”

As Elle swept out of the solar, a low groan could be heard from Calli’s bedroom.

“Ber-Ber,” Calli called. “What’s the matter?”

“I look ridiculous,” Berrak said sullenly. “I’m not doing this.”

Calli’s fingers tensed, but she didn’t let the polish touch. “I’m sure you look great, honey. Come and let me see.” It was a command delivered with the certainty of a general.

Behind the wall separating the bedroom and solar, Berrak flinched at his fiancé’s tone. “Fine,” he huffed, and he rounded the corner.

The rogue was dressed in a skintight bodysuit with a deep V-neck, edged with shimmering diamonds, and glinting all over in the light cast by the fire. His shoulders slumped, and he held the matching hat limply at his side. Calli’s own outfit, draped over the side of her couch, was of similar grandiose appearance. “I hate this,” Berrack muttered under his breath.

“What was that, dear?”

“Uh—I-I said I feel silly, darling,” Berrak covered quickly.

“_Of course_ you look silly, _silly_,” Calli lilted. “We’re _supposed to_. It’s all part of the performance. Plus, your ass looks great,” she added appreciatively.

Berrak perked up a bit at that. “Well, naturally,” he said proudly.

“Now, let’s go shake these money makers and get some new customers!”

A steady snow fell gently over the town of Honnleath as the Angels began their stroll. Where her Angels’ outfits were sleek and shining, Calli and Berrak’s were glamorous and glittering, as though made from millions of tiny rubies. Every Angel—aside from Ted, who needed both hands to play the violin—carried a basket full of candy canes. Each cane was decorated with a red ribbon, tied to which was a Magic Mouth business card detailing the establishment’s services on the front. The back of the cards held the nearly naked rendition of Calli the town had come to recognize from Berrak’s shield. The proprietress of the Magic Mouth was, if nothing else, an aggressively successful marketer.

Calli herself carried a small tuning whistle and led the Angels around town, singing songs of the season. The group was surprisingly gifted in voice. Bill provided a strong bass to contrast the higher voices of the others. Ripley supplied a contralto that perfectly married Bill’s voice to that of the altos Vivienne, Elle, and Heather. Calli completed the choir’s range with a silken elven soprano.

The performance was more than mere song, of course. Choreographed to Ted’s melodious chords, the group would form pyramids with the burly Bill in the center and from the top of which Berrak would gracefully flip, sticking landings in the snow as if it were dry earth. Vivienne and Heather would dance sprightly through crowds as they sang, and Ripley encouraged the citizens to join in song with a honeyed smile. From Gildas’ tower, down to the docks, and through every street they sang and danced.

As the group caroled through the streets, spreading cheer for all to hear, the people of Honnleath felt warmth in their hearts. <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ujwzjrFizQ>

Many a new patron was found within the Magic Mouth in the coming weeks. It was a warm refuge against the biting frost and chilling winds, as well as the darkness of the heart that tends to follow on winter’s wings. Indeed, the Magic Mouth had been more than a brothel to begin with. Heather’s therapy sessions helped many a citizen through the frozen months, along with Ted’s music and Elle’s massages. All in all, it was the most cheerful place to be in town.


	4. Felsi & Johnny

The guild hall was one of only a few businesses still open in the evenings, and the only place that served food. As such, Felsi and Johnny were plenty busy well into the night. Some of the patrons made comments about how Johnny was up so late, how could Felsi do that? But they didn’t know the boy had _begged_ to be allowed to stay up and help until the place was fully closed and cleaned. They didn’t know how hard it was for the child to sleep soundly, or how Felsi had to calm him down from the panic attacks. She lied for him, of course. _Oh, he’s just a hard worker. He’s a little ball of energy. He’s such a helpful boy, he insists._ She would smile and lie, and customers would let it be.

The more observant and seasoned adventurers could see it. Why the boy busied himself so. They would always be a little more appreciative of his table service, or they would give more smiles than the other customers. No comments were made aside from positive ones.

After a typical long night of work, while they were getting ready for bed, Johnny handed Felsi a package wrapped in simple brown paper. Felsi unwrapped the gift to reveal a simple wooden box, inside of which was a gorgeous silver necklace set with three small but pristine emeralds.

“Oh my,” she whispered. “It’s beautiful. Where in the world did you get the gold for something so extravagant?” She knew the answer of course.

“The adventurers would give me tips sometimes, and now and then, I’d get a _really big one! _So I saved it all up. Do…you like it?”

“I love it.” Felsi was already clasping the fine silver chain around her neck. The stones sat comfortably just above her collarbone. She gave Johnny a kiss on the forehead and a tight hug. “Thank you, Johnny.”

As the boy climbed into bed, smiling contentedly, Felsi reached under her pillow and retrieved another package wrapped in brown paper. This one was somewhat larger and lumpier. She handed it to Johnny, who excitedly tore it open. From the shreds of paper the child pulled a soft, crimson scarf, carefully embroidered with golden thread. His eyes grew wide. Felsi had been getting generous tips of her own, and she smiled as he rubbed the gentle material against his face.

“How do they get _wool_ to be so soft?” Johnny wondered, then he looked up at Felsi. “It’s my favorite color! Thank you so much!” He leapt over to Felsi’s bed for another hug, then quietly returned to the warmth of his blankets. He knew the jeweler had been kind and not charged him _quite_ what the necklace was worth, and he was glad. It had the purest gems of green, her favorite color, and Felsi deserved the best.

Felsi watched to make sure the boy’s breathing was deep and even before she pulled the covers more snugly around him, then she retired to her own bed. The tiefling tailor had outdone himself. She’d seen plainer scarves on nobility, but her boy deserved the best.

Sometimes, Johnny felt a little overwarm in his scarf as he went about his work in the guild hall, only willing to remove it so that sweat might not wear upon it as quickly. Felsi was ever careful not to splash foodstuffs onto her necklace, lovingly cleaning it with polish to keep the tarnish at bay, and loath to take it off at night. As the necklace rested in its box and the scarf upon the bedpost, their owners slept blessedly soundly, for those and more nights to come. For winter does not only bear a bitter frost. It also heralds a warmth of the heart, found only in times of a cold and unfeeling nature, and shining all the more brightly in its audacity to stand against the darkness.


End file.
